


I Want the Style of a Woman, The Kiss of a Man

by ParadoxicallySpeaking



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, Yes. Yes it is., is this just a short scene character study that somehow grew legs and became a +5000 word fic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-01-30 11:12:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12652443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadoxicallySpeaking/pseuds/ParadoxicallySpeaking
Summary: Howard is a Man of Action who hasn’t, perhaps, been involved in as much action as he'd assumed he'd be, and Vince is… Vince, something beautiful and loving and without the need to be defined. Maybe it shouldn’t work, but it does.(or, ‘Howard and Vince, inside and out: a narrative told by the people who know them best’)





	1. Leroy

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1: featuring glitter stars (my favourite make up technique), over-exaggeration and over-distractibility from Leroy, and a slightly existential lunch at Pret a Manger. As you do.
> 
> (Also, I feel the need to explain that whilst Leroy breaks narrative a couple of times, this is the only chapter this happens.)  
> (Also this...isn't great, and is probably nothing that the fandom hasn't seen before. But it's the longest thing I've ever written and my first stumbling foray into the boosh fandom, so I have some fondness for it. Un-beta'd because I am a coward, so please tell me if there is anything I can improve.)

I bounced up and down on my feet, swinging my arms back and forth (and, no, I didn’t nearly trip and fall over in my new high heeled boots...not more than twice…look I’m still getting used to them, shit off!), anything to fill the space in time while I waited for Vince to come downstairs. I hated when he did this. I know I take just as long to get ready, but when he’s running behind I’m always stuck downstairs with Howard and Howard’s fine but it’s always awkward. I never really know what I’m meant to say to him when Vince isn’t around.

I dunno if it’s just ‘cause I know Vince better, but Howard’s life seems to revolve around him, and it’s really weird being alone with him because all I wanna ask is “How’s Vince been lately?”, “What adventures have the two of you been up to?”, or “So, what psycho has Vince had to save you from _this_ week?” ‘cause Vince is pretty much the only thing we have in common. But it just feels weird to ask when Vince isn’t in the room, like I’m prying into Howard’s life.

If you described Howard and Vince to me and said they’re in love, I’d laugh in your face (seriously, that’d give me more of a giggle than even most episodes of Buzzcocks), but as soon as you name them Howard and Vince it’s like, ‘oh, no, that makes sense, everyone knows it.’ I didn’t really buy into the whole soulmates/true love/whatever-you-want-to-call-it thing until I’d gotten to know the both of them. It’s not changed my mind completely – it doesn’t work like that for me – but it works for them, even if they’re a bit dense about the whole thing.

But I was starting to get twitchy, I had to say _something_ … “So, Howard, have you and Vince, err… I mean, well… anyone tried to kill the both of you within the last fortnight or so?” Ugh.

There was the weird feeling in my stomach again. Take Vince away and asking Howard even the most normal shit about the two of them just feels like perving on their relationship.

Howard opened his mouth, slowly, to answer. Thankfully, we were both saved the horror as Vince finally appeared at the top of the stairs. Howard’s mouth clamped shut and he swallowed, staring. Fucking ridiculous. Vince may look like it – I don’t know – 98% of the time, but he’s not a god or an angel or whatever (…probably?), you don’t need to worship the group he walks on, mate.

I grimaced at Howard but squinted at Vince’s outfit. I _know_ I’m one of Vince’s best fucking friends (BFFs), because in the Venn diagram of his friends who ain’t gonna ditch him, but also have even an ounce of fashion sense, I really am in an overlapping category of one. Most of our mates would just laugh behind his back if he made a misstep in his style (which happens hardly ever), but I’ll tell him, or throw on something similar and we’ll rock it with the kind of confidence that just ends up tricking the Camden trendies into thinking we’re well on vogue.

This outfit (another one of those skin-tight jumpsuits that I’d never be able to pull off) was practically perfect, but, “Needs stars.” I pointed at my cheekbones and around my eyes which were lined with star-shaped glitter.

“Genius!”

When I’d finished sticking the tiny silver stars to him with lip balm, he turned to grin at Howard. “What do you think?”

“Suits you.”

So Vince did that thing he does when Howard compliments him. You know, that look where he looks like he just been told he’s the fairest of them all (and to be honest, with Howard, he essentially has) and looks down and seems all shy but then looks up again and he’s smirking at him.

I almost gagged.

It was like the opening scene of some really softcore French porn or something, jeez.

Seeing as I’m telling you the story and I’d like to be the most thorough (if slightly distractible) narrator possible, I’ll provide a translation service for the previous scene. (I’m fluent in the language of Vin-How-lish, got a FCSE in it and everything.)

_“Oh, Howard, I feel really pretty because Leroy’s a fucking magician with glitter and Vaseline! I feel so pretty that I want to know you think I’m pretty too, because that’s when I feel prettiest!”_

_“Vince Noir, you are more than pretty; you are stunning, gorgeous, my sun and stars; I adore you.”_

_Shy look. Smirk. “Howard Moon, I want to shag you up against this wall right now.”_

See? Gross.

(Look, I know I’m not the best storyteller, not like Vince, but this is a 108% factual narrative, so deal with it.)

Frankly, I’d had enough. “Okay, time to go! Oxford Street Lush will get proper busy if we don’t leave soon!”

“Sure you don’t want to come, Howard?” Ugh, good grief, Vince, it’d be well awkward! And he’d look like our dad or something! (Still, he could carry the bags…)

“No, sir, I have more important things to do than frolic in the London high streets with the two of you, carrying your bags.” Damn. “That’s the only way to stop you going into overdraft, if you have to carry them yourself.”

Vince huffed. I was eager to get moving. I may feel awkward when I’m with Howard, but I feel secondary when it’s the two of them.

“Fine, enjoy rearranging stationary village or stock-taking or wanking or whatever it is you do while I’m out.”

Howard glared a little and his ears tinged red when Vince reached the Special Alone Time word (embarrassment or guilt, Moon?), and then it just goes back to normal. “Take care, little man.”

“Yeah, see you.”

( _“Love you!” “Love you too!”_ Yikes, they’re so bloody domestic.)

* * *

“Oh, come on, Vince, I’m _hungry_!”

Vince was still in the Topshop changing room, trying on half the store’s content. I rummaged through my HMV bag during the wait, searching for a magazine I'd picked up. I was flicking through it when Vince came out in a blouse paired with black skinny jeans (as if he hasn’t got enough). Twirling, he grinned when I gave him a thumbs up. Finally he stepped out in his jumpsuit again, arms heaped with what we’d deemed worthy. He gave the cast-offs to a girl who looked bored out her mind but who didn’t seem all that thankful that we’d given her something to do.

Luckily, in the centre of London, you’re probably never further than a 10 minute walk from a Pret a Manager, so it didn’t take long until we’d paid for food.

“There’s your change and receipt, darling. And it’s ladies night at the bar at the end of the road, so if you and your mate are going out tonight, you can get two free drinks.”

Vince grinned at the cashier. “Nah, we’re just gonna stay in tonight, thanks though!”

I dunno if it was a combination of the fact that my mind hadn’t had a shiny distraction for a few minutes, or the hunger, or what, but it latched onto that. Vince never corrects people when they think he’s a girl. Up until now I hadn’t thought about it, it pretty much always happened with Howard anyway, with them assuming he’s his _girlfriend_ , so I guess I just thought it was the veil of heteronormativity that just made everyone assume that since Vince and Howard are _so obviously_ a couple, the assumption was furthered to assume that Vince is a girl. It makes a kind of sense.

As for Vince not correcting them, I’d thought it was because to correct one part he’d have to correct the other. Can’t just say ‘oh, I’m not his girlfriend, I’m his boyfriend’, no matter how true it is, ‘cause Howard would freak. He’d have to say ‘oh, no, I’m a guy, we’re just friends.’

But she just assumed me and Vince are mates, and that’s good ‘cause it’s true (and I’d quite like her number), but he still didn’t correct her.

I’m not saying I’m complicated, I know I’m no less simple than Vince (actually, he might have more depth than me, but it might just be the root booster), but it’s in different ways. When I have a thought, it sort of gets tangled up inside me and I can’t think of anything else until a new thing distracts me enough. Vince can just let it filter through him and be let out in his creativity. I just blurt out randomly to strangers why they always choose that ice cream flavour, or have they really broken up with their boyfriend, or why they always order decaf, or can I have your number? Just as soon as I’m not distracted.

I hurried to a table with our food and my bags.

“Leroy, listen to this!” Vince was grinning at me from behind a fork of macaroni, paused in space and time as it was abandoned for something more interesting (that was well poetic, have to remember that for lyrics in the future). “Pastel techno! It’ll be the new trend – well wicked! It’ll be all edgy and urban and you’ll have the vests and whistles and everything, but it’s all soft fabrics and pretty colours and putting pastel pink dip-dye in.” He grinned, then wrinkled his nose, and the fork finally completed its journey. “Actually maybe not the pink dip-dye, bit 13-year-old-girl-during-the-summer-holidays, don’t you think?”

He grabbed the receipt and started scribbling a pastel techno design on the back. I finished my salad and Vince didn’t seem like he’d be talking any time soon. Bit dangerous, now I didn’t have anything to distract me from blurting out something like “Why do you never correct people when they think you’re a girl?” Shit. Vince was still scribbling, but there was a lull. He seemed perfectly comfortable, but suddenly I felt like I’d said _Savage: Songs from a Broken World_ was a bit shit. “I mean, you don’t do it with Howard either, I’ve noticed…is all…”

Another not uncomfortable pause. Vince has stopped scribbling but doesn’t put the pen down. And then with easy confidence, like he was talking about a new lip gloss, something every-day-ordinary, “Well, it’s ‘cause they’re not really wrong.”

“Oh,” I said, because it was all I could think of for a split second. And then, because I’m not an idiot (I’ve got GCSEs in all sorts of stuff), “Do you need me to change pronouns?”

Vince shook his head. “Nah, you’re alright.” Almost shyly, he started scribbling again.

My brain drifted to thinking about the logistics of pastel techno and which club to debut it in. Should we match, or wear two different outfits just with the same style? I tapped my fingers on my thigh, as if I were playing a keyboard, to bring myself back to now. “Are you keeping your name or are you gonna test new ones out, or have you picked one?” It wasn’t really that big or anything, not – what’s the word – momentous. “What _is_ your gender?” It made sense in a weird way, just like Howard and Vince did. Oh, damn, “Have you told Howard yet?”

Vince had almost finished the sketch now, and was chewing the pen lid. (Ugh, forgetting my pencil case at school was the worst, it was either Howard’s perfectly organised Oxford stationary sets, or Vince’s chewed biros. Ew. Wait, where was I?) He didn’t seem too bothered by any of this really. “Vince suits me, I’m not changing it. Best name in the world!” He gave me a cheeky grin.

“Debatable.”

“And I’m just Vince, I guess. I don’t know. I’m a bit of a girl-boy. I’m comfortable with whatever. I don’t really need to label things like Howard. Not everything has to be perfectly arranged and put in boxes, you know? Life isn't stock-taking.”

I nodded, that faux fur coat I bought last winter didn’t fit in any of my boxes when I tried to pack it away. Still wouldn’t get rid of it for the world, though.

Vince had slipped the tip of him thumb into his mouth, and was talking around it now. “I haven’t told Howard,” this was the first time he seemed less confident. He looked tired, like it was the end of a long day already. “But I don’t need to. He knows, I think.” He blushed a little. “He just knows these kinds of things. And apparently I’ve got both male and female brain cells.”

“Genius!” Now, _I_ wanted to know what my brain cells were like. “Is she fit?”

“Howard said she was ‘a very attractive and intelligent looking lady; radiant and kind.’ I think that means yeah.”

Yeah, Howard _would_ say that.

I started colouring in parts of the pastel techno sketch with Vince, running my fingertips over my new fishnets.

And things lulled back to normal. “Aw, Leroy, what do you think of mermaid goth? That’s gotta be something! Mermaid stuff is right on trend now!”

I grinned. “Genius.”


	2. Howard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2: featuring nail painting and a Conversation.

Leroy’s probably the least shallow of all Vince’s mates. Not to say he’s less shallow than Vince (or less stupid, or likely to wear less stupid clothes – really they’re as bad as each other), but Leroy seems to actually give Vince the time of day. He doesn’t fall all over himself in Vince’s presence and then ditch him when the winds of fashion change and suddenly hippy is back in but Vince is still a mod (and will be for at least another fortnight until some new obsession shinier than Paul Weller’s shoes catches his eye). What I’m saying is the rest of Vince’s mates are so shallow, that if you filled a paddling pool with their personalities, there wouldn’t be enough in ten of them to earn a “Warning: danger of drowning” sticker. So I tolerate Leroy, can even hold half a conversation with him, even if he’s more easily distracted than Vince.

“So, Howard, have you and Vince, err… I mean, well… anyone tried to kill the both of you within the last fortnight or so?” As soon he spoke, Leroy looked as embarrassed as he would if he’d accidentally coordinated outfits with me. I would’ve answered but it was at that point that Vince walked down the stairs. Like always, what I was saying died beneath his overly dramatic presence. Leroy screwed his face up in disgust before Vince had even made it to us, which I thought was harsh, especially since Leroy is normally all over this style on Vince. But apparently just having not enough of the right kind of glitter is a criminal offence.

The glitter stars really did suit him though, bringing out the blue in his eyes and the lines of his cheekbones. Of course, hearing me say so just embarrassed him, as it usually does. I wouldn’t be surprised if by the time him and Leroy return they’ve picked all the stars off, deeming it uncool now.

Leroy rolled his eyes and seemed exasperated at nothing while Vince grinned up at me. “Sure you don’t want to come, Howard?”

Knowing this to be nothing more than a ploy to get me to act as his mule, I informed him I had more important things to do. (Which I do!)

At this point Leroy was practically dragging Vince towards the door, desperate for attention. Still, Vince managed to get in one more attack on my uses of my spare time before leaving.

“Take care, little man.” (Look, it’s not like I want him to get hit by a car. He doesn’t look before he crosses enough.)

“Yeah, see you.”

And with that he left, and I went and sat down to spend some quality time with John Coltrane. A much better use of my time than carting around bags, I’m sure.

* * *

“How was your trip?”

Vince was oddly quiet when he bustled back in through the door with fewer bags and earlier than expected. Must’ve worn the wrong kind of boots. “Was great,” but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and he wasn’t looking up.

“Hey, I know the protocol is for you to parade everything you’ve just bought in front of me, but if you need to talk first, that’s okay.” I went over and took the bags out of his hands, placing them neatly in the corner and then switching the kettle on. Soon, we were both sat on the sofa, Vince still looking deflated. He was still wearing the stars.

I wondered if someone was copying him again.

“I talked to Leroy.”

“That’s not surprising, you can hardly get him to shut up.”

“No,” he breathed a little shakily. “I mean I had a conversation with him. And I’ve never been bothered about this before, but he brought it up and… I was fine! But then, I was thinking on the way home and it managed to put the bother in me,” He was chewing on his thumb nail. “And I’m worried it’ll bother you.”

I sat down next to him with tea for us both just as he got up again and retrieved a nail polish from the other side of the room. He pressed it into my hand, maybe a little insistently, and sat back down again.

“Really?” I unscrewed the top of the bottle despite myself. “You wouldn’t usually pick purple with this outfit.”

“I’ll just wear something that matches tomorrow.” He replied, but sounded distant and unfocused. He held his right hand towards me.

I took it into mine and made a stroke downwards with the brush onto his thumb nail. It always surprised me a little, just how small his hands are in comparison. I focussed in on how long it was taking Vince to continue talking, thankful for the distraction provided by doing his nails.

Finally, he took a breath in and released it in a rush of “You do know I don’t do this just to be cool or edgy, right, Howard? Because this isn’t just a costume, right? If people think I’m a girl that’s fine, but if they think I’m a boy that’s cool too. And if they’re not sure then that’s genius but not because it’s trendy or whatever, or because it’s a bit glam rock. It’s because it’s me, Howard. It’s all me. I’ve never dressed up as anyone but me unless I’ve _said_ I’m dressing up.”

I let go of his hand and immediately had to smack it gently away from his mouth before it completed its absent-minded journey. “I know. Have done since…well, I’ve never really had an alternative point of reference when it comes to you.”

He looked a little surprised, then seemed reassured like I’d confirmed something. His wet nails nearly went back to his mouth again. He stopped himself. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because,” I finished the last nail on his left hand and screwed the top back on the bottle so it wouldn’t dry out. “It didn’t need worrying about. After I had been in your brain I thought for a while that maybe you were in denial or confused or something but that just didn’t make sense. I mentioned your brain cells to you just in case you were. But you’ve always been perfectly content with yourself. I didn’t approach you about it because I thought if it didn’t bother you, and it had never bothered me before, then it shouldn’t bother me now. Vince, I always assumed that if ever that changed, and it did bother you, then you’d tell me.” His right hand was dry enough now for a second coat, and we were both quiet. Thinking time. There was a strange tension in the air this time I took his hand. “So, what’s changed now? Do you want me to stop calling you ‘little man?’ Because it’s just a nickname, Vince, if it doesn’t work for you anymore, we don’t have to keep it.”

Vince shook his head, and leant towards me slightly, relaxing. “Nah, it’s fine. More than fine. Electric! Leroy just put his foot in it earlier and it got me all muddled up inside like he usually would. How do you do it, Howard? The whole thinking thing? I hate stewing in a thought, it’s gross. Much rather be thinking about Bowie.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. “To be honest, little man, I usually deal with it through song.” He nodded at this like I’d bestowed wisdom upon him. His nails finished, I let go of his hands and gave him one pat on the arm, even as he sank sleepily into the space on the sofa against me. I decided to let him have that this once. He’s been through enough today without me kicking him off. “But it’s fine to not fit in boxes, little man; life isn’t stock-taking.”

He smiled at that, relaxing further into the sofa cushions and me.

“Howard, why did you say all that stuff about my brain cells, especially the girl one?”

His eyes were droopy enough for me to dodge the question by pulling him to his feet and towards the bathroom. “I can’t remember what I said.” I watched him scrub off layers of eyeliner and brush his teeth. Like I predicted it would be, the question was forgotten. All the thinking had clearly worn him out.

I made sure he actually made it into his bed, instead of just collapsing onto the floor in front of it in exhaustion again. “Goodnight, Vince.”

“Night, Howard.”

I shut the door behind me, but waited to hear that Vince had settled down and fallen asleep. There was a little bit of shuffling, silence, and then a whisper.

“I hope it was because you love me, Howard, because I love you too.”

_Oh._

I stepped silently away from the door and made myself another cup of tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The nail painting scene was one of the first parts of this fic I wrote, and I nearly scrapped it, but I'm glad I didn't because I'm rather fond of it. I don't think I nailed Howard's voice but I hope this chapter still works.  
> I forgot to mention it at the end of the first chapter but the title is taken from the song Introducing The Band by Suede, and is another thing that was decided on back when this fic was only about 600 words long (and to my belief was only going to stay that long).  
> I don't really have much else to say other than I hope you enjoyed reading!


	3. Naboo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do feel a bit like I'm short-changing you guys, because this is insanely short. But necessary, because Howard makes a Decision.   
> The final chapter (which is much longer) is also completely done, so I'll probably be posting that on Friday/Saturday.

“Howard, you ballbag, why’re you ignoring Vince?”

Howard jumped, shaken out of one of those freaky jazz trances. Why can’t he just get high like a normal person? “Naboo! Don’t just burst into my room like that!” He shifted, relaxing a bit. “And I’m not ignoring Vince. I’m just… not engaging him in conversation as often… I mean… you have to admit, he’s rarely got anything… of substance to say.”

“That sounds like ignoring him to me. And it’s so obvious, it’s making Vince upset, so Bollo keeps nagging me about how his ‘precious flower’s all wilted’ which means it’s getting in the way of my shamanic duties.”

“You mean getting high?” Howard’s eyebrow lifted. I ignored him.

The idiots have probably had a squabble again and now Howard’s all like ‘never speak to me again ever in your life’ and is actually trying to keep to it this time, the arse. “Well, work out whatever your problem with Vince is and go back to being as normal as the two of you can manage.”

“There’s no problem! There’s nothing going on between me and Vince! Nothing at all! Absolutely nothing you’d ever want to write home about! _Nothing_!”

Ugh, denial. There hasn’t not been anything going on between you and Vince since the 90s, _at least_. “Just fix it, Howard. I’m not your couple’s counsellor. You have to fix your own troubles in paradise.”

He squirmed and I got the horrid feeling that he was going pour out his emotions to me, probably through the medium of dramatic song. “He might’ve meant it differently but… circumstances in mind… I mean all the evidence points to…” He took a long breath in and swallowed a few times, wetting his lips. _If he starts hyperventilating I’m just going to give him a paper bag and leave._ _This is not in my job description, thanks._ “Naboo, I overheard Vince saying he loves me.”

_Oh._

Definitely not in my job description. “You can’t keep ignoring him.”

He looked off to the side and then down at his hands. “I know. He already thinks he’s done something to upset me…”

“Hasn’t he?”

It’s not difficult to see. It’s always been there in the grins and the jokes and the subtle glances and the teasing and the light flirting. It’s been a part of their dynamic for so long it probably can’t be removed now without some sort of stress to their relationship as a result.

“No, I don’t think so.” Howard eyes left his hands, met mine, left mine, focussed on the wall, the floor, before settling on the door. “I think maybe I…” He whispered. Then, louder, “I just don’t know how to deal with this information. I’m a man of the world, of course, seen a lot of things, my friend! I’ve wrestled a lot of the big problems… Just never one like this.”

“Once again, I’m not your couple’s counsellor, but I’d start by making sure he knows you’re not mad at him.”

“Yeah,” he wet his lips again. “Yes, that’s probably a good place to start.” And then his eyes lit up. “I’m going to tell him!”

“Yeah, maybe not right away, give it a bit of time. Don’t just dump all your feelings on him before you even apologise. Don’t freak him out, yeah? He’s not Gideon.”

Howard seemed to snap out of it, mostly. “Yeah.” Determinedly, he straightened up and marched out the door.

I walked into my room. “Get me a hash cake, Bollo – Howard’s definitely about to cock this up.”


	4. Vince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4: the conclusion.

“Hey.”

I looked up to see Howard in the doorway. I wanted to say something biting to hurt him, but I held my tongue. Being left on my own two days is bad enough. Instead I just stared at him. Not warm enough to be inviting, but not catty enough to send him away from me again.

He stood there awkwardly, eyes all shifty. He went to sit down. Then thought better of it. I shrugged. He sat down. I tried not to think about how far away he was.

“Vince, I’m sorry. I think I overreacted a bit.” I shrugged again, feigning disinterest. I don’t know what I’d done, but if Howard’s apologising to me, I’ll take what I can get.

“I’m sorry too, Howard.” _Everything can go back to normal now, right?_

“No, you don’t have to be, little man. You haven’t done anything wrong!” I squirmed. He was doing that glazed-eye grinning from the roof. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, I swear, I never meant to hear but… that night I painted your nails, I suppose I was a bit worried about you, I… So I waited outside the door for a moment, just to make sure you fell asleep… I heard…” _Fucking shit._ My face fell. I tried to swallow down the lump forming in my throat. “I know you love me, Vince…”

The false adoration and awe flooded his face again and I felt sick. These were just the same motions as before. I wasn’t having it. _It’s not fair on me, Howard!_

“Howard, that’s just… friends can say that too! It doesn’t mean I want to tongue you!” I tried to laugh it off. My stomach felt like it was tying itself in knots.

“No, Vince, you don’t need to be scared of your feelings! I love you too!”

My mouth dried up.

_Oh no._

“Look, Howard, is this just because you overheard me saying that? If this is just another two minute infatuation then don’t bother, I’m not getting chucked again and definitely not by you.” My tummy clenched again. “Just forget it,” I couldn’t even look at him. “Please.”

“Vince?”

“It’s not real, Howard! You’ll calm down as soon as someone else even looks at you and then you’ll forget about this and everything will be normal again.” The adoration slid off his face and I felt a little smug despite myself that I’d be proved right so easily. “Just leave, Howard.”

“No, I really do. I love you.”

Half of me wanted to yell ‘ _prove it!_ ’, half of me wanted to yell ‘ _no, you don’t!_ ’, and half of me just wanted to storm out. But instead I just sat there and waited for him to get the picture.

He seemed to.

He squirmed a little, eyes darting about like they always do, but at least they stayed on my face, mostly. He looked so vulnerable then. I nearly caved, nearly gave him an out – just kissed him because it would be easier for both of us. But I couldn’t. Because I know I’m selfish, yeah, but I wanted this to be _real_. I wanted him to _prove it_.

Not a momentary lapse. _Real_. Because I know I want it, I want to know he does as well.

The first time was… nice. But it wasn’t like we’d decided we wanted to do it, together. At the end of the day, it was just a performance, so it almost didn’t matter if Howard was stiff and inexperienced and wasn’t convincing. I just had to be. Which wasn’t hard. 

And maybe we really didn’t have to go for so long, and maybe I didn’t need to hold him like that and keep guiding him back to me every time he strayed. But, look, I’ve already said I’m selfish and self-centred, I know all that! It’s just for what felt like forever and a split second all rolled into one I got to have what I wanted. It was almost tangible, almost _real_.

And then we stopped and Howard went all weird and then the Pencil Case Girl showed up and I told him I’d never love again and maybe it was melodrama, but maybe it wasn’t, right? Because time’s moved on and I’m _still here_.

And just that’s enough to make me want to hate him a little bit while he flounders and looks lost. And so that horrid part of me that makes me a right bitch sometimes just lets him. I’ve already given you the driving lesson, you should know the motions for the test.

Just kiss me, you berk!

I start to roll my eyes fully prepared to get up and leave the titbox. “Look, Howard, just forget…” And then it just melts away and all the consun- consot- consonants (!) get sort of crammed up inside my throat and whine out through my nose because Howard’s _kissing me!_

And that’s my proof. So the selfish part switches off and gets replaced by the greedy bit, and then I’m scrabbling at the back of his neck and curling my fingers just right to pull him closer. I’m all jittery and Howard’s all Howardy so we’re both flailing and missing each other or knocking teeth. It’s all stop-start and it’s ridiculous and it’s probably perfect. I’d probably start giggling if all those whines weren’t still escaping.

And then I bite his bottom lip and suck it into my mouth and he’s bunching up my shirt in his huge hands, and I don’t even care that he’ll probably ruin the silk because he just lets out this _noise_.

And it’s ridiculous because it’s _Howard_ , and it’s _me and Howard_ , and it’s _fucking hot_.

That’s when I do start giggling, but I’m still snogging him so it’s just snorts, really. And that’s really not sexy, but Howard seems to think its fine and his tongue slides across my lips very quickly, shyly. And I knew that some of those arty movies he watches had to be softcore porn, because where else would someone so awkward learn to be such a classy kisser? ( _Has he kissed anyone since?_ ) And it’s all still ridiculous and the kissing is hot but still really awkward and will be for a while, and I think, yeah, this is probably perfect.

I pull back, still holding the back of his neck and clutching his chest (and I think ‘ _wow, when did I do that?_ ’). And then I start proper giggling, but all breathless and a little bit shy. And I hope Howard doesn’t think I’m laughing at his grand expression of love again because I wasn’t then and I’m not now.

He seems uncomfortable at the new development.

 _Fuck_. I’m still giggling a little, but I have to smooth it over, no time for selfishness now. “Wow,” I breathed. “So is that one of the famous Howard Moon moves I’ve been hearing about since we were kids, then?”

I think he preened a little at that. “Yes, sir, I showed you my moves! Monsoon Moon, coming at you like a beam, like a ray, like a-”

“Like an amateur porn star!” I grinned, on the verge of giggling _again_. (And I did not like this! My school-girl-with-a-crush days were back in the Zooniverse! They’re over, I won’t have them coming back!) “Nah, seriously, Howard? That was ridiculous and sexy and what I’ve wanted since… for fucking ever, really.”

“Better than a sale at Topshop?”

“Always,” I grinned. “Better than jazz?”

“I don’t think I’d go that far, little man.” But he was grinning back at me so I knew he was teasing and he looked dishevelled in the best of ways. Howard should always look dishevelled, I decided, should be some kind of law. (In fact, I may have to make sure of it myself. Every day.) “But maybe if we played jazz whilst we were in the throes of passion.”

Trust Howard to say ‘throes of passion’ for just a bit of snogging on the sofa. “Ugh, you’re not pulling me into your weird jazzy fetish! I’ll get a rash!”

He just smiled that nice, easy smile he does when he’s really, genuinely content and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, smoothing the spot on the shirt that he had been holding. (Even though it was clear he had stretched the silk, I appreciated the gesture. Besides, it felt nice.) And I finally thought that the selfish bit might be a blessing in disguise because if it makes me feel _this_ good to see Howard this happy, then hopefully I’ll do everything I can think of to keep him that way.

“I know it wasn’t as good as jazz, but I think it was what we both really wanted.”

He nodded. “I think maybe it was a little bit perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is! I don't really have anything to say here but I hope you all enjoyed it, and thank you all for reading!  
> (I'm going to miss writing this fic, it was a lot of fun)

**Author's Note:**

> (I would've posted this about half a week ago but I've had the flu)  
> This fic literally was just originally me trying to fiddle some of my Vince headcanons into some sort of shape as a way of distracting myself from the emotional Struggle of starting university. I wanted to get them into some kind of scene, to give him some kind of dialogue/conversation, and then I created one with Howard - which goes against my feeling that with everything that's already happened, Howard and Vince probably haven't had the need to have this conversation. It very quickly became Leroy, and I love characters who are mentioned regularly through a show but never or rarely seen so that spun mildly out of control.  
> There was never any doubt that I would keep Howard's part, because it was just needed. So that's where the idea of each part of the narrative being told by a new person came from, and you will see it in the future.  
> It's just four chapters though (of variable length) but they're all almost finished, so updates will be pretty regular.  
> (Also, this is the first first person fic I've ever written and I'm 90% sure I Shouldn't Be Trusted to write in first person.)  
> Tumblr: popvultvre


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